


waiting for a shot in the dark

by izzybusiness



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 14:52:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8849269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzybusiness/pseuds/izzybusiness
Summary: “Is this about your boner for McCormick?” Craig immediately asks, a slight grimace pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Because while I’d normally rag on you for having such shitty taste, certain circumstances have made me reconsider Marsh’s gang.”“Certain circumstances, what?” Tweek echoes in confusion, then he shakes his head. “No! I’m talking about this whole thing! Kenny died, Craig! He died, and for some reason, no one remembers except me!”





	

Kenny McCormick dies on a Thursday. 

It’s ten minutes until the end of lunch and Tweek is standing outside at one end of the basketball court, his leg braced against the concrete wall behind him and his arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to ward off the cold. To his right, Craig is idly flicking cigarette ash at an increasingly disgruntled Clyde while Token watches, hiding his smile behind his hand all the while.

“Cut it out, asshole,” Clyde demands, brushing black soot from his shoulder. “If Bebe smells smoke on me again, I’m dead.”

“I can’t believe you’re still scared of her,” Token comments with a snort. “You’ve been dating her since elementary school, man.” 

“Hey, at least my girlfriend doesn’t trick me into going to operas with her,” Clyde fires back, and Tweek has to suppress a laugh at the stricken expression that instantly comes over Token’s face.

“We don’t talk about that night,” Token mumbles, shuddering slightly. For his sixteenth birthday, Nichole had surprised Token with tickets to a “show” in Denver which had turned out to be a four-hour production of _Madama Butterfly_. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been scarred for life.”

“Fucking heterosexuals, man,” Craig drawls, cocking an eyebrow at Tweek and elbowing him in the side. 

Tweek just grins up at him in reply. Maybe they aren’t dating anymore but at least he knows that the two of them will always be Tweek and Craig; a failed attempt at a relationship doing nothing to break the easy camaraderie that they’ve fallen into over the years.

“Jesus, it’s f-freezing,” Tweek grits out, his teeth chattering in response to the icy gust of wind that suddenly shoots through the air. He wraps his arms even tighter around himself, trying to stay out of the cold. 

Craig immediately turns to Tweek and surveys him, an undercurrent of concern present beneath the deadpan exterior. “Here, take my jacket,” he offers, making to shrug out of it and ignoring Tweek’s feeble protests.

“Gee, Craig, I’m cold, too,” Clyde remarks loudly, fluttering his eyelashes at his best friend in an effort to gain sympathy. Beside him, Token scoffs then rolls his eyes fondly.

Craig tilts his head towards Clyde, gaze unimpressed. “Yeah?” He takes the cigarette between his two fingers and drops more burning embers on Clyde’s sleeve, causing him to hiss in annoyance and take a step back. “That should warm you right up.”

Clyde opens his mouth to retort, but then whatever argument he’s about to come up with is cut off by a long, drawn-out cry of, “Oh my God, they killed Kenny!”

“What the fuck is Marsh on?” Craig grumbles, and Token shrugs before starting to walk towards the cluster of students crowded around something on the opposite end. Somewhat reluctantly, Tweek kicks off from the wall and follows.

The four of them trudge through the snow, slowly making their way over to where people are converging at the edge of the playground. Over all the noise and the commotion and the curious whispers, Tweek hears Kyle shout, “You bastards!”

There’s a small break in the crowd when they arrive, and Clyde proceeds to shove his way forward in order to get a better look at whatever everyone is staring at. Tweek observes him peer at something on the ground, and when he returns to their group, his face is drained of all color. 

“What?” Token asks eagerly. He cranes his neck upwards, trying to see above the heads of all their classmates. “What’s going on?”

“I…” Clyde trails off and then shakes his head despondently, gesturing for them to go take a look for themselves. 

The three of them exchange curious glances before Craig shrugs and pushes his way to the front. There’s an eerie silence that’s fallen over the group, and when Tweek’s eyes finally take in the gruesome scene before him, he has to fight to keep himself on his feet. 

Kenny is sprawled out on the snow, a wooden stake lodged in the center of his stomach and blood seeping through his clothes and spreading out across the ground. The contrast between the off-white and the crimson colors create such a vivid and horrifying image that Tweek can’t tear his gaze away. 

“Oh, Jesus, Kenny, no!” Stan’s yell pierces through the still air, and he slowly moves towards Kenny’s body, one hand gripping the side of his head in shock. 

Kyle takes a tentative step forward, his body shaking. He makes it halfway across the space until his knees buckle and his legs give out. Before he can hit the ground, Craig is there, holding onto him while Kyle buries his face in Craig’s chest, and for once, Tweek can’t read anything behind the unfathomable expression on his features. Even Cartman is surveying the situation in front of him, his cheeks uncharacteristically pale and his fists clenched, while Butters sobs into his left shoulder.

Tweek’s vision starts to blur and he can hardly comprehend anything happening around him. He’s distantly aware of someone calling for a teacher in the background, and he watches as Kenny’s body is wheeled into an ambulance, the sounds of all the sirens melding together before fading into a dull, continuous pulse of noise. 

That night, Tweek lies in bed, the burning picture of Kenny’s blank and dead face, his blonde hair stained with bright red, still etched into the forefront of his mind. When he does finally drift into a restless sleep, his dreams are plagued with white and crimson, and he tosses and turns his way into empty unconsciousness.

—

The next morning, Tweek forces his eyes open and drags himself to school, a heavy weight settling itself on his shoulders. He resolves to go up to Stan and his friends and say something, _anything_ , to let them know how sorry he is when he sees them.

The moment he arrives at school, he realizes that something’s off. While the halls had been quiet and calm in the aftermath of Kenny’s accident, everyone seems to have cheered up immensely overnight. The chatter that floods the corridors is loud and teeming with laughter, and when Tweek walks over to his locker, Craig and Clyde are waiting for him, caught up in an argument, the same as always.

“Don’t you guys have more important things to talk about?” Tweek finally snaps, slamming his locker door shut and cutting into a heated debate about which team is most likely to win the NFL this year. 

Clyde just blinks at him impassively in response. “Like what?”

Tweek gapes at him in disbelief. “Like what?” he repeats shrilly, his gaze flicking over to Craig for some kind of support, but Craig seems almost as confused as Clyde does. “Like—like Kenny!” Tweek hisses, flapping a hand at them uselessly. “Like what happened to him yesterday!”

Craig crosses his arms and leans against Tweek’s locker, lifting a brow at Tweek in question. “What happened to McCormick yesterday?”

“Very funny, Craig,” Tweek shoots back, rolling his eyes and pretending he doesn’t notice his two friends trading worried glances. “I know you don’t like Kenny, but I don’t think we should pretend that—”

“Hey, dude!” Kyle’s greeting rings out, interrupting their conversation, and it’s the fact that his tone is downright _chipper_ that causes Tweek to whirl around and glare at him accusingly. 

To Tweek’s complete and utter shock, he sees Kenny ambling casually towards his friend’s locker, which happens to be located across from Tweek’s. “We missed you at Cartman’s last night.”

“Yeah, I had some stuff to take care of,” Kenny replies blithely, shrugging his shoulders like the stuff he had to take care of wasn’t _death_ because he was _dead_ last night.

Craig follows the line of Tweek’s surprised stare and turns back to him. “You were saying about McCormick?” he prompts, but Tweek can barely understand what he’s saying on top of all the roaring in his head.

Kenny’s _alive_. This is not possible. It’s just not humanly possible. Tweek saw him lying on the ground. Tweek watched him _bleed_ out. There’s no fucking way he’s standing there talking about video games with Kyle like he didn’t _die_ yesterday. This is a dream. It has to be a dream.

“Tweek, what are you doing?” Craig’s slightly cautious voice creeps into Tweek’s subconscious, breaking him out of the mounting panic that had been building inside him. 

“Trying to wake myself up,” Tweek explains, one eye twitching as he continues to pinch himself on the arm incessantly. “Wake up, wake up, wake up,” he mutters under his breath, his chant growing in urgency with every passing second that he stays rooted to the spot.

Tweek hasn’t had an anxiety attack in a long time, but he’s still grateful when Craig instantly grabs hold onto one of his hands in an effort to keep him calm. The gesture does help somewhat, so he lets Craig walk him down the hall, passing by Kenny in the process. 

Tweek’s so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice the way Kenny looks down at their joined hands as they move past him.

—

Tweek isn’t crazy. He is _not_ crazy. Maybe if he repeats that phrase to himself enough times, he’ll start to truly believe it. 

It’s lunchtime and all the students are sitting around the cafeteria. Tweek’s eyes are still fixed firmly on Kenny, who is sitting with his friends at their usual table, talking and laughing and stealing bits of food from Cartman’s tray like he didn’t just get _impaled_ yesterday, and Tweek is not crazy.

“Hey, Tweek?” Token waves a hand in front of Tweek’s face, and it’s only then that he startles and finally notices him. “Why are you staring at Kenny like that?”

“Tweek seems to be obsessed with Kenny today,” Clyde chimes in unhelpfully, his mouth full of chewed lunch meat.

“I’m not obsessed with Kenny!” Tweek protests, his grip on his spoon tightening. “It’s just—how can you all sit there and act like nothing happened?” he demands wildly.

“Because _nothing_ happened!” Clyde argues, bits of burger flying out of his mouth with every word that he says.

Craig throws a piece of meat in Clyde’s direction, his lips curled in distaste, before he finally leans in and regards Tweek, seeming a little interested. “What do you think happened?”

“He—he…” Tweek casts a panicked glance at his surrounding friends, takes in their different facial expressions, which range from slightly detached (Craig) to mild interest (Token) to overt interest, or possibly hunger (Clyde). “Kenny _died_ yesterday,” Tweek admits eventually, lowering his voice.

There’s a beat of surprised silence, his words settling in, and then Clyde snorts in amusement. “Yeah, no he didn’t.” 

Tweek groans, running a hand through his hair, causing it to stick out even more. “Yes, he did!” he cries. “He did! We all saw it!”

“Tweek,” Token begins slowly, his tone full of patience and understanding. It makes Tweek want to throw something. “Kenny’s alive. He’s sitting right there.”

“I _know_ he’s sitting there,” Tweek snaps, tired of being treated like he’s going insane. “But he died, okay? He was dead. You have to believe me on this.”

“Tweek—” Token tries to say once more, but Tweek knows that he’s just going to counter his declaration with another sympathetic statement that will somehow end with Token going, “Do you want to start seeing somebody again?” so Tweek cuts him off and pushes his tray aside, getting to his feet.

“Gah!” he yells in frustration, waving his arms in the air as he stalks out of the cafeteria. “Forget I said anything.”

—

The rest of the week plows on, and no matter what Tweek says, Kenny is still there acting so unbelievably normal about everything that even Tweek starts to doubt his own sanity. Kenny sits in class and cracks jokes at their teachers and strolls about the halls, and no one notices that anything is off. No one except for Tweek.

Tweek pushes the door to the library open and finds Craig sitting at one of the long tables by the window. There’s an open book on the table in front of him, but he’s not even reading it. Instead, his face is turned to the opposite end of the room, and Tweek almost starts to follow his line of sight to check what he’s staring at so intently, but he manages to stop himself from getting distracted.

Maybe it’s a bit tacky to seek advice from your ex-boyfriend, but Craig had been his friend long before the whole mess that was their relationship started, and he’ll continue to be his friend beyond that, so Tweek plops onto the wooden chair across from him, resting his hands on the tabletop.

“Craig,” Tweek starts. From the way Craig visibly jumps in his seat, Tweek can tell that he hadn’t even noticed someone was sitting there until he spoke. Seriously, what is he looking at? “Really, dude, I’m going insane.”

“Is this about your boner for McCormick?” Craig immediately asks, a slight grimace pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Because while I’d normally rag on you for having such shitty taste, certain circumstances have made me reconsider Marsh’s gang.”

“Certain circumstances, what?” Tweek echoes in confusion, then he shakes his head. “No! I’m talking about this whole thing! Kenny died, Craig! He died, and for some reason, no one remembers except me!”

Tweek finally figured it out after another one of his sleepless nights, when his thoughts raged on and on and pumping his body full of caffeine did nothing to help. It isn’t that he’s crazy, it’s just that nobody remembers it happening. That Kenny really did die, that much Tweek is sure of. But why it is that he knows and none of Kenny’s best friends do is beyond his scope of understanding.

For all that Craig does probably care about Tweek, he kind of gives crap advice. “Just talk to him,” Craig suggests, his eyes already shifting over to their original point of focus. “Ask him out if you wanna bone him that much.”

“I do not want to bone Kenny!” Tweek shrieks, his voice going embarrassingly high with the effort, and this causes the few occupants inside the area to glare at Tweek in annoyance. “Gah! Fuck this,” Tweek cries, stomping out of the room.

It’s only when he’s sitting in class, bored out of his skull, does it register in Tweek’s mind that the only other person he knows who willingly spends breaks in the library is Kyle Broflovski.

—

Kenny is standing alone by the garbage cans, underneath an awning that’s practically drooping with the amount of snow piled on top of it. He’s leaning against the wall and smoking a cigarette, snowflakes falling around him and settling themselves on his blonde hair, when Tweek finds him.

Tweek’s never been the most intimidating person in the world, but dating Craig must have given him some kind of backbone because he barely hesitates before stalking towards Kenny. His expression furious, the first thing out of his mouth is a hissed, “I’m not crazy,” accompanied by a narrowing of his eyes.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Kenny replies simply, blowing out another smoky cloud before regarding Tweek curiously. “Cigarette?” he asks, holding up a nearly empty pack and brandishing it at Tweek.

“Well, the whole world thinks I am!” Tweek goes on, waving aside Kenny’s offer.

“Fuck what other people think,” Kenny answers back with a graceful roll of his shoulders. In that second, he reminds Tweek of Craig so much that he has to catch himself before he starts to smile.

“I saw you die,” Tweek says, stepping forward and trying to project as much Craig as he can muster into his glare. “You were impaled by a wooden fence and you died, so explain what you’re doing here.”

The look that comes over Kenny’s face is—Tweek doesn’t even know. It’s this wild mixture of horror, shock, just a little bit of relief, and maybe even some reckless hope. His eyes are open wide and they’re trained on Tweek, and it’s probably just how close they’re actually standing to each other, but Tweek doesn’t think he’s ever realized how _blue_ Kenny’s eyes are, or how they stand out in such sharp contrast compared to everything around him.

Kenny still hasn’t responded, isn’t even moving, and Tweek is starting to grow increasingly nervous under the heavy weight of his gaze. “I’m not crazy,” he repeats, but even he’s not entirely sure anymore. “You died, and Kyle was there screaming—”

“‘You bastards,’” Kenny finishes for him, barely whispering it, and before Tweek can do anything, Kenny is kissing him, his mouth slotting perfectly into Tweek’s, his breath warm. 

There’s some kind of disconnect that occurs in Tweek’s brain, between getting kissed by Kenny McCormick and actually _liking_ getting kissed by Kenny McCormick, and maybe Craig was right after all.

When Kenny steps away, there’s a slight flush that’s spreading across his face, and Tweek wants to run his thumb down the line of his cheek until the color disappears. “Sorry about that,” he says, and it’s so far off from what Tweek feels that he can barely open his mouth to argue. “I can’t believe you remember,” he continues, tone laced with awe. “You _see_ me.”

Tweek is still trying to process everything that just went down, so in a daze, he asks, “Does this happen a lot?”

“Used to happen a lot more,” Kenny explains, and now there’s a grin tugging at the ends of his lips. Tweek starts to smile helplessly. “I would die and then wake up in bed the next morning as if nothing happened.”

Tweek blinks at him in surprise. “Shit,” he says, wincing slightly. “That must suck.”

“It’s South Park, man,” Kenny remarks, lifting another stick to his mouth and lighting up. “Nothing makes sense in this town.” There’s a beat of silence while Tweek digests this (unfortunately) true sentiment, and then Kenny adds, “You know Satan told me this would happen.”

This makes Tweek pause, his mind struggling to go over Kenny’s sentence and make sure that he really heard what he did. “Uh, Satan?” he echoes dubiously, which, well, considering what Kenny just admitted, he supposes that anything is possible at this point.

“Yeah, I’ve been to hell a couple of times. Saved him from an abusive relationship,” Kenny says dismissively. Tweek feels his eyebrows disappear underneath the hair on his forehead. “That’s a story for next time,” Kenny goes on, waving a hand at him. “Anyway, it used to bug me that none of my friends would ever remember me dying, and I used to spend a lot of time down there since I died almost everyday, so I’d go to him for advice. He said that only someone with a similar mind to mine would be able to see me properly.”

Despite himself, Kenny’s words still cause Tweek’s insides to start churning furiously. “So you do think I’m crazy,” he responds dejectedly, his shoulders drooping. He should have known that deep down, everyone will always think of him as the paranoid spaz he was as a kid.

But Kenny just regards him in complete disbelief. “Dude, I tell you that I have the power of immortality, and you think _you’re_ the crazy one here.”

“For what it’s worth,” Tweek begins, “I’m sorry no one remembers. Your friends seem torn up every time.” 

“I know,” Kenny says, one corner of his mouth lifting. “I realized that as I got older. But it still kind of hurt, you know? Everyone would be so worried about Kyle and his diabetes, but I get stabbed to death in front of them and they all forget.” 

“I’d remember you,” Tweek returns, moving to stand next to Kenny. “It would be pretty hard to forget a guy who can’t die.” Then he frowns. “Wow, I can’t believe I said that. Maybe I am a little crazy.” 

In a way, Tweek thinks he understands what Satan meant. Tweek has always operated on a different plane of reality from the rest of his friends, his constant paranoia making him hyperaware of everything around him. He guesses that he just finally _saw_ things for once.

“Guess we’re _both_ crazy,” Kenny corrects him, his hand bumping into Tweek’s, lacing their fingers together. Tweek can’t help but laugh in agreement. 

That night, Tweek dreams of blue and gold standing out starkly above the rest, washing away all the traces of red and white that still lurk beneath his closed eyelids. Tomorrow, he’ll let Kenny know that he still remembers, and then he’ll make sure that Kenny doesn’t die before he has to again.


End file.
